We have left the Rock, and have two days to relax before we set up at the next venue. The Inn was full where Rye and Ginger stayed along with Illa, their long time travelling companion.

Medicine Man usually takes a room at the local university. Cheap rates, food on site, wireless access in the cafeteria. Only it’s a dorm room. And there was only a double left.

This means that I am sharing a room with a man, and, sorry, Warrior Woman, not in a slutty way, although I acknowledge your efforts to pimp me out.

I find Medicine Man to be very interesting in various ways. Very soft spoken, this comes from his Ojibway heritage. Half Italian explains his love of the food.

His mother married his best friend when he was a teenager. He left for the bad streets and bright city lights because he couldn’t handle it. And really? Who could? Then began what he calls his “colourful life”.

A lot of his personal friends are strippers, dominatrices, and women generally associated with the sex trade. It seems he has experience in the field. He became deeply entrenched in “The Life”.

For three years, he slept with a gun under his pillow because he opted out of the shady underworld that connected the Hell’s Angels to the Italian organization. (His father was the Italian connection)

I asked him why he stopped (with the gun sleeping thing). He says that now he doesn’t care.

I wondered if that was why he drove the way he did.

He was offended that I thought his driving was bad.

Half Indian. I asked if he subscribed to the theory that “Today is a good day to die”. And? Was he fixing to take me with him?